Living Life Together
by Londoncalling89
Summary: Random unconnected scenes of the domestic life of Charles Carson and Elsie Hughes. Primarily cannon.


**A/N: Hello all! Sorry for the long delay. I promise to get to my other pieces soon. This is just a little thing that has been stuck in my mind for a while. Hope you enjoy. Let me know if you'd like more of this!**

He'd started the fight. He knew that much.

It was nearly midnight when he'd finally had the nerve to climb up the stairs to their bedroom. He hadn't expected a warm reception but he had at least expected some acknowledgement that he'd entered the room. She was awake, he knew that much. Months of laying beside her at night had taught him the difference between her faux sleeping and actual sleep. Somehow he found the idea that she was pretending to be asleep even more aggravating.

He'd started the fight because…well if he was honest with himself he was bored. He was bored of sitting at home all day long feeling useless. It hadn't been as bad during the summer. There were committee meetings and events around the village. Even if the village was quiet he could go for a nice walk in the summer sun. In the fall however there was little to occupy his mind and the idle hours stretched before him with endless mockery. He had once been useful. He had once been important. He didn't feel any of that now.

But his wife was useful. She was important. And though it pained him to admit it, he was angry with her for that. Angry that the careers they had carved for themselves from years of toil and sweat were still appreciated in her case and disregarded in his.

He didn't want to be this man. He didn't want to be the kind of husband who felt insecure because his wife was working while he was at home. But he felt neutered by it all. When she had suggested he might learn to do some cooking he'd felt the last traces of his mask fall. The camels back was broken and when she returned home that night he'd picked the fight. He called her inattentive. Had criticized nearly ever corner of their home. He'd nearly ventured to saying things he would most certainly regret but he'd stopped himself just short of the line. Just short of what he couldn't go back from, but only just. Even if he hadn't said it, she felt it. She could sense it and the air around them had been tainted by it. She'd feigned a headache and gone to bed as soon as the dishes had been dried.

He'd felt regret almost immediately. As he sat across from her at their little table, seeing her looking down intently at the stew before her, not daring to meet his eyes he felt shame. The kind of shame he'd never felt before. A kind he wished to never feel again.

He had offered to help with the dishes, a pathetic olive branch, but she hadn't taken the bait. Instead she'd assured him it was her place in their home to take care of the domestic things and sent him in to 'smoke his pipe and read his paper'.

As Charles began dressing for bed he wondered how to break the awkward silence. How to apologize gracefully and save face.

"You could at least acknowledge I'm in here." He uttered and instantly regretted his wording. He cursed himself for his consistent stupidity. He wondered if he ought to just grab his pillow and go down to the sofa.

But before he could make a decision the large quilt on their bed flew up and Elsie leapt out of bed, stuffing her pillow under one arm and grabbing her robe from the bottom of the bed.

"Where are you going?" He asked incredulously.

"I'm going to the guest room." She said flatly.

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to argue Charles. I want to sleep and clearly you have no intention of letting that happen."

"But the bed in there hasn't even been made." He retorted, hoping to stall her, give himself time to sort out the right thing to say.

"I made it up after dinner." She said stopping in the doorway and turning to see his reaction.

"Why?" He asked in shock.

"Charles, I'm exhausted. I've spent all day running around Downton trying to sort trivial matters for her ladyship, I came home and cooked a full meal for you, cleaned up after and tided the bathroom in addition to everything else. My feet are aching, my head is pounding and…and…I'm so tired Charles. I don't have the strength to fight with you tonight." With that she left the room without waiting for his reply.

Charles lay back in their bed, his mind spinning. Somehow he'd forgotten how hard her job was. It was easy when he was in the thick of it himself. At the end of the day they would lament their exhaustion together over a glass of sherry. Those had been the best moments of his day and whatever annoyances he'd felt about her regarding this and that during the day disappeared and he felt…sympathy…empathy…he wasn't really sure as he thought about it now. Perhaps he felt tenderness for her and a closeness in their shared struggle. And now…now he was useless. Put out to pasture. Unwanted.

And that thought terrified him. It angered him. And somehow he took it out on her. He forgot all the feelings of kindness towards her the nights would bring and instead spent his days stewing. He felt wretched. He felt a failure even more so.

He'd failed at marriage. The only thing he was really ever supposed to get right.

One could learn to be a hall boy, a footman, even a butler. But could someone learn to be a husband? Could one learn to think only of another, to consider their point of view, to put them above everything else day in and day out? Once again the shame of his actions covered him. The things he'd said. The cutting words meant to deal the deepest blow with the least amount of effort. And all because he was bored. And depressed.

He needed to do better. He wanted to do better. But could he?

Without thinking he got up and went into their shared bathroom. Flicking through the shelves he searched in vain for a particular jar, a plan turning in his mind.

Sometime later he knocked gently on the door to the guest room. Again she was wide-awake and he knew it.

He waited a moment before knocking again. After a moment he pressed his ear to the door and heard a light rustling from the inside. Suddenly the door flew open before he was able to pull his head away.

"Charles, you are testing my patience…" She trailed off as she looked at the bucket in his hand. "What are you doing Charlie?"

"You said your feet hurt so I brought you a footbath. I even put in your lavender bath oils."

Elsie was speechless and stood aside allowing him into the room.

"I…I…thought this might help." He said setting the bucket down next to the chair in the corner of the room.

He stood back awkwardly, unsure what to do or say. Elsie looked at him for a moment, trying to sort out what was going on inside his thick head. Clearly this was meant as a peace offering, but what kind of peace could they have? What kind of resolution could there be if he wouldn't admit what he'd done wrong.

"You didn't have to do this Charlie." She said walking over and sitting down by the chair.

"I know. I just…" He trailed off unsure how to continue, what to say to her.

Elsie lifted the edge of her dressing gown and nightgown up and gently placed her feet into the warm bucket. Charles breath stalled for a moment as he saw the creamy skin of her legs before they dipped into the bucket. For Elsie, she felt her whole body relax for a moment as the sensation overtook her senses. She'd needed this, she really had. If only it had come to her without having such a fight with her husband. Why did his kindness always come off the back of cruelty? She tried not to think about it as she enjoyed the moment.

After a while she realized that he was still in the room, standing awkwardly by the door starring at her.

"Thank you Charlie." She said simply, eyeing him. He looked as though he was half ready to run away.

"I'm sorry." He murmured.

"That isn't the typical reply when someone says thank you.":

"No well…of course you're welcome but I meant I'm sorry for being so unkind."

Elsie sat silently, unsure what to say. Did she forgive him? She would of course, she always did and while the footbath had helped settle her anger she wasn't sure she was ready to completely forgive just yet.

"Elsie?" He said hesitantly.

"I don't know what to say Charlie besides thank you. This was very kind of you…but…what you said tonight-" Suddenly the dam inside him burst.

"Was wrong! It was horrible. You are my wife and the most treasured thing in my life. I'm just…I'm just so angry." He said getting more and more agitated. He began stomping around the room in a circle, a caged animal looking for a way out.

"I'm useless Elsie. I'm useless and I've never been useless in my life. I hate it. I hate it. I feel like half the man I was before." Unable to control his anger Charles pushed his forehead against the door of the bedroom and pounded his fists into the wood unconcerned if he damaged it.

Elsie got up quickly and rushed across the room to him. Slipping as she went across the wood of the floor. Without hesitation she threw her arms around Charles middle and lay her head against his back.

"You aren't useless. Not to me."

"I'm like a neutered dog…" he mumbled, his arms tiring, his anger failing as his palms lay flat against the door.

"Hardly Charlie. You're just…older, so am I. Things change. I know its terrifying."

"My life has changed, you are just as important as you ever were."

Violently she pulled his body to face her. Anger rose in her chest. She'd spent so many years cultivating patience with him but this was the limit.

"How dare you say such a thing? Do I mean so little to you Charlie? You are my husband, the man I chose to spend the twilight of my life with. You are the most important person in the world to me. I place you above all others. Does my care and devotion to you mean nothing? Is my want to have you at my side valueless? Is my love for you so unimportant? Do you honestly see no value to yourself outside the walls of Downton? Because I can assure you within these walls you are so desperately needed and wanted. This would not be a home without you. I would not have a life without you."


End file.
